Marmoream Relinquo, Quam Latericiam Accepi
by Svelte Rose
Summary: What happens when you realize that nothing was ever within your grasp, life was never about choices but preordained paths, that you can do nothing but sit back and watch...
1. Prologue

**Author**: Svelte Rose

**Rating: **MA

**Title**: Marmoream Relinquo, Quam Latericiam Accepi

**Part: **Prologue

**Characters**: Hermione Granger plus various other characters

**Warnings**: Beware of a slight paraphrasing of historical events.

**Date**: March 13th, 2008

**Note: **For the great Hermione cliché challenge over at Granger Enchanted! Only the beginning for now…can you guess who the 'watcher' at the end of this is? 

* * *

Lady Rolsbury felt her knees weakening as the golden-eyed man flashed another charming smile, the deepening clefts showing off a pair of perfectly symmetrical dimples. Upon snatching two champagne flutes from a passing attendant, an immediate offer was made to her.

One hand upon her breast and slightly winded though she had not physically moved from her position for the past half hour, she nodded in acknowledgement, feeling rather foolish in her schoolgirl fantasies before taking the proffered drink.

"Your servant," he murmured, bowing as long dark lashes hooded his unsettling gaze.

She took a quick gulp from the flute, the blood rushing straight to her head leaving her even more breathless as she hurriedly summoned to a nearby girl in a purple dress. 

By the time he lifted his head, the young girl had caught sight of her red-faced aunt and was already weaving her way through the crowded ballroom, mindful of her steps in the crush.

It was a glorious affair. Dressed in their best and most opulent of fineries, the high pitched titters of the ladies could be heard in concert with the deep rumbles of the smartly dressed men as champagne glasses clinked and the orchestra reared up to play another piece.

A decidedly _Muggle_affair. 

He could care less. Interest finally replaced the bored look in his eyes as the young girl reached the side of the elderly woman and placed a hand upon her elbow. Her dress might have very well been sin and the glorious bosom that seemed to strain at its confinement only exacerbated that perception.

She didn't even cast a glance at him as she lifted a slender hand to Lady Rolsbury's shoulder and patted comfortingly. He wondered if he should even be slightly offended at her utter lack of acknowledgement but all such thoughts flew out the window when he offered a delicious view of her back as she moved to stand in front of him, fretting over the old woman.

_Sin indeed._ His hand itched to brush the almost indecent amount of skin which the dress revealed, wishing that instead of being attached to the champagne flute, it was instead the luxurious coffee colored curls that teased edge of the dress where it rested on the beginning curve of her bottom. 

A rather devious smirk crossed his lips as Lady Rolsbury gave very unhelpful answers to her niece. He knew his effect on women and the smirk only grew wider upon further realization as to why the young girl seemed to suffer none of the same consequences.

"Let's get you into the sitting room," he caught her saying to her aunt as she started towards the large oak doors at the end of the ball room, hand pressed upon the back of the befuddled old woman.

The good Lady Rolsbury nodded mutely, eyes flickering to stare at him.

Brown eyes caught her stare and with a confused gaze, Hermione Granger turned around to look behind her.

Save for the conversing groups of people who didn't seem to know of anyone's existence but their own and bustling staff offering drinks here and there, she could not see anyone of significance. Turning back around, she shook off the slight shiver that ran down her back and continued to maneuver the heavily breathing Lady Rolsbury through the crowded ballroom.

It was strange. For the rest of the night, she could not shake off the feeling of eyes burying its presence into her very soul.

_So he watched her from afar, the white tunic doing nothing to cover the hardening pink crests as her lover ran a hand down her soft skin. She had a seductive allure, completely irresistible and everything exotic. Yet there was a slight air of innocence which did not elude her even when her lover entered her with one deep thrust, his groan muffled in her thick hair. The man whom he called 'uncle' kissed her hard and swiftly moved in her, lust darkening his green eyes._

"_My queen," the man murmured lovingly against her lips._

_Her response was a gasp, her breath cut short by another sharp thrust._

_The watcher averted his eyes, unable to look upon their entwined forms anymore. His hands reached up to cover his ears pinching hard so as to block out any sounds._

_It did nothing to stop the multitude of images swimming before his golden eyes._

_He quickly made his escape back into his own bedchamber and took a strong swig of the wine made readily available by the palace servants. One drink right after the other, he only stopped when the bowl was empty and the front of his toga damp with the crimson color of the drink that had dribbled from the corners of his lips during the rapid consumption.. He tripped indecorously onto the bed and closed his eyes._

_The images would not – could not – stop._

_Except instead of the great Julius Caesar lying with the Queen of Egypt…_

_It was himself._

"_**He learned that Alexander, having completed nearly all his conquests by the time he was thirty-two years old, was at an utter loss to know what he should do during the rest of his life, whereas Augustus expressed his surprise that Alexander did not regard it as a greater task to set in order the empire which he hand won than to win it."-Plutarch**_


	2. Chapter 1

"Oh, hello

**Author**: Svelte Rose

**Rating: **MA

**Title**: Marmoream Relinquo, Quam Latericiam Accepi

**Part: **Chapter 1

**Characters**: Hermione Granger and various other characters.

**Warnings**: Beware of a slight paraphrasing of historical events.

**Date**: March 22nd, 2008

**Note: **For the great Hermione cliché challenge over at Granger Enchanted! Most of you guessed the watcher at the end. Some of you were slightly confused. Might I emphasize the "paraphrasing of historical events" part of this story? ; Hope you enjoy.

**xxxx**

"_Oh, hello." The surprised voice came from behind._

_Octavius turned around from his survey of the small garden oasis and his gold eyes widened._

_It was hard not to notice his reaction and her response was immediate. "I apologize," She said, "I didn't mean to-"_

"_You didn't," he said and he knew it to be too quick of an answer._

_A curious look entered her eyes._

_He swallowed nervously._

_Then, all notions of icy formality flew out the window as a friendly smile adorned her face, "I am-,"_

"_Cleopatra," Blast! He stiffened visibly. That wasn't supposed to happen. "I'm sorry, that was presumptuous of me."_

_She didn't make a single noise; it was agreement enough. "It seems my reputation precedes me."_

_He did not deny this and cast a furtive look in her direction._

_She was someone who did nothing to hide her emotions. At that moment, he wagered he would've been able to see the bitterness even if he was completely lame in the eyes. Before, she seemed everything amicable and friendly. Now, it was as if she trusted no one, not even herself._

Hermione settled her aunt down into a plus armoire and then secured the latch on the door. The last thing they needed was an intrusion by randy party goers stumbling upon her while she performed magic. She had enough encounters of the sort while attending several social events with her butterfly of an aunt.

Who, speaking of which, seemed rather out of sorts. When they arrived, her cheeks held a healthy pink color but now, it seemed to match the pearls she adorned, without the luster. Her eyes were a dull, glassy grey as she stared off into the distance at nothing in particular. While she was somewhat advanced in years, Lady Rolsbury seemed to have tacked on a good twenty more years in the last ten minutes.

The curly haired witch walked over and rubbed her aunt's back comfortingly.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

Maeve Ingleton, named Lady Rolsbury from her first marriage and one of the few remaining titled elites in England with the exception of the Royal Family, opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before reaching up with a gloved hand and rubbing her forehead in obvious distress. "I'm not sure. I briefly conversed with a man. Beyond that…"

A frown appeared on the brunette's face. She quickly scanned her memories and could not remember seeing her aunt with any sort of man. Usually, the old lady would find herself surrounded by her friends and other gossiping biddies, feigning modesty as they watched the on-goings of the younger years.

Strange…she usually had a pretty good memory.

"He left when you appeared." Maeve answered, leaning back into the bed of pillows.

_Ah, that would explain it. _"Do you wish for me to call for our driver?" It wasn't as if they- or rather, she- should've been out in public in the first place.

Maeve seemed to contemplate this for a few moments before shaking her head. "No, all I need is a bit of rest and I'm sure my healthy disposition will return. I just feel so drained right now."

Hermione stood up from where she knelt and moved to the chair across the armoire and sat down. Her aunt picked up her feet and settled comfortably across the large seat, one hand still rubbing at her forehead. With a concerned eye on the elderly woman, the curly haired witch absentmindedly fingered the slender piece of wood she had strapped to her thigh. She was sure that the only good the slit up the side of her dress provided, was for easy access to said piece of wood.

Within a few minutes, the gloved hand halted completely, dropping to the pillow and then, evened breathing, barely there snores, could be heard.

The wand appeared from beneath the purple silk and Hermione leaned forward with one arm outstretched. From the point emitted a cloud of smoke that levitated above the sleeping matron before completely disappearing soundlessly into her body.

_The diagnostic spell was probably one of the most useful basic spells she'd learned. It was simple to gauge, what with different colors representing different illnesses. _

Within a few minutes, the cloud lifted from the body. Instead of misty white, it was a dark shade of blue. A frown appeared on her face and she waved her wand again, this time muttering the words of the spell under her breath.

Again, a blue cloud appeared after several minutes.

That could only mean one thing.

But who was the witch or wizard that had given her Muggle aunt magical poisoning? It was unfortunate the diagnostic spell couldn't also tell her what had been used but thankfully enough, it seemed to only have the aftereffect of a strong sleeping pill.

The problem was that they were probably still at the party…as was she.

_Conversing with a man…that was well over fifty percent of the party! _The corners of her mouth sank even lower.

_She knew she shouldn't have come to such a highly publicized event anyways. Not that she was involved in her past life anymore but the danger was still present and having an aunt who had no idea of her 'special abilities' just made things that much more difficult to bear. To appease the old lady, she had agreed to the smallest of soirees and afternoon tea parties but when the chance came to go to a grand ball, Maeve just couldn't resist haranguing her niece to go. It was a chance to show her off (as she never had any children of her own) to those in her social circle._

Hermione sighed, smoothing at the wrinkles in her dress as she contemplated her next move.

She wondered if she should be shocked at all by their presence in the Muggle world. Voldemort's forces had a great aversion to everything and anything not Wizarding but attacks had been increasing on various small towns. Even though they were passed off as freak accidents, the resultant magic was noticeable to those who were familiar with its _world._

But the attacks on the Muggles were few and far between. The Death Eaters were stupid but not so stupid enough that they would declare war when they were still fighting their own _kind._

_Which meant there was something else at play._

She got up from her chair and walked over to her sleeping aunt. A hardened look was cemented on her face as she pressed the tip of her wand into Lady Rolsbury's temple.

"_Legilimens_."

**xxxx**

Her aunt safely secured in a room snoozing away, Hermione made her way back to the party and with a vision enhancing spell, searched for the blurry face she'd encountered in Lady Rolsbury's memories. Every bit of her was on alert for anything magic and almost immediately, her eye caught a tall, broad-shouldered man. It wasn't hard to spot him as the people around him, especially the ladies, seemed to be glued to his very presence, forgetting all notions of personal space. Her eyebrows narrowed in suspicion.

Her senses screamed that it was he who was responsible for her aunt's current disposition and she'd bet her entire life's savings that the same women currently enthralled with him would find themselves falling victim to exhaustion. Magic tended to drain those who were not meant to handle it.

As if sensing her very thoughts and with his back still turned to her, he set his wine glass down on a nearby table and exited through the veranda doors. Only for a moment did he paused and waved. One quick assessment told her the ladies that had surrounded him currently possessed the same glossy-eye stare her aunt had sported just an hour ago. Hermione felt her heart jump at this, the familiar sensation of adrenaline pumping through her arms as her hand itched to bring her wand out. If she wasn't so alarmed by the fact that he knew that she was looking for him, she would've been impressed by the way he maneuvered his broad frame through the thick crowd so easily.

_The people around him practically swayed to do his bidding._

Hermione ignored the goosebumps rising on her arms. Every single internal alarm was going off, telling her to cease her chase _but that was ridiculous_. She'd handled an entire army of Death Eaters before. One was nary a dent in her numbers.

Though it didn't hurt to be extra careful in such instances, she thought as she followed him out the doors.

_The air was palpitating with magic…old, ancient magic._

As she entered the beginning of the garden maze, the splashes of the large water fountain could be heard with a soft wafting of music from the party just several meters away. Hermione brought out her wand and with the tightest of holds, slowly walked around the marble piece. The dim lights would be romantic in any other circumstance but now, it did nothing but eerily shadow the broad, tall man whom she knew was not of this world.

_Bloody hell, she could practically feel the magic emanating from him._

"It didn't take you long," he murmured turning just enough for her to catch a bit of his handsome profile. A bright gold iris caught her stare and a smirk curved on his lips.

_He had the most intriguing of eyes. _Hermione's jaw tightened as she held out her wand. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer and took a step towards the entrance of the maze. His arms, which had been crossed before, now dropped to his sides where she could clearly make out a slender piece of wood.

"You can't beat me." _Not yet, anyways. _

Not another word and the curly haired witch had already hurled her first spell. The broad-shouldered man ducked into the maze, the red spell flying high over his head. Casting a long lasting protective shield over herself, Hermione dashed off after him. Entering first, there were two ways she noticed he could've gone. Her eyes searched left and when they moved right, she caught the end of his shoe just disappearing around the bend. Her skirts hiked up in one hand, she hastened after him, barely ducking when an _Expelliarmus _escaped hitting her by a nose breath.

_Who was this joker? If he wanted to capture her, he wouldn't be playing such a game._

She cautiously made her way down the narrow path. No longer could the sounds of the party be heard nor the splashing of the fountain. Her feet stopped, ears straining for any sounds of movement.

_There it was._

Hermione dived for the ground, silk flying as his body burst from hedges, leaves flying everywhere. She flipped over on her back and scrambled to regain her footing as he turned his entire profile at her, a wand held out.

Were she a less experienced in the art of war and more of a schoolgirl, she imagined she would've been slightly taken back by the decidedly striking eyes and devilishly handsome profile facing her. As she was neither, she flicked her wrist where a blue streak of magic shot at her opponent. He dodged, of course, but it gave her just enough time to get to her feet and dash down the path.

_She'd studied all the profiles the Ministry had on the suspected Death Eaters and never once, did she come across such a face._

A hoarse cry sounded from her mouth as the back of her legs was hit with something sharp and as she flailed around to regain her balance, her heels caught the edge of a protruding rock and she went sprawling. Her hand instinctively tightened even more around her wand and she brought up both arms to soften her impact on the ground.

"Oomph!" She groaned and then quickly rolled over to see where her opponent was at.

He stood only a few inches from her legs, a strange look across his face.

She could practically hear the words his expression was screaming. _Ah, prey caught._

And she had been. She glared up at him, daring him to do what he obviously so wanted. His gold eyes only added to the threat of the wand pointed directly between her forehead.

"_Petrificus totalus_."

At least she'd gone down fighting, she thought cynically before darkness hit.

_She literally felt the air from her lungs escape in one harsh breath as he shoved her against the marble wall; green eyes darkened with lust and something so much more; she much likened them to the color of a forest night sky. In one fell swoop, he knocked her headdress away where it clattered to the floor as ringlets of curly hair fell around the two of them in a curtain. Hands weathered by the regular use of a sword grasped at her knees as her body was lifted and held up by his body._

_Just as fast as it had begun, it stopped with his lips halting nary an inch from her own. The evidence of his arousal could be felt plainly through the thin purple silk and eyes brushed over her in frank curiosity._

"_Are you…?"_

"_No. She cut in quickly, a pink blush coloring her cheeks. Women did not speak of such things but she was not in her homeland and thus, was not familiar with his customs. _

_His eyes never left her face as he reached down with one hand and pushed aside the front of his robs. Hers were bunched up rather indecorously around her waist and the blush on her cheeks only darkened._

_She felt her knees aching with soreness and shifted herself by grasping him around the arms. Eyes still studied her in a rather unsettling way and she felt anxiety building at the long pause which could not have been very long in retrospect but felt like a lifetime._

_She had chosen to do this. There was no turning back._

_Then, a small smirk crossed his face and before she knew it, he entered her in one quick thrust. Eyes closed in rapture whilst hers filled with tears for more than one reason alone._

"_Thea. My Thea." He murmured into her neck._

_She was not a romantic girl and his words gave no illusion of affections._

**xxxxx**

**End Notes**: My greatest thanks to the best beta ever, Nicole. Without her, you guys wouldn't be able to read this. So much love, darling!


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